


mercy kill

by pommegranate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mourning, Sad friends, implied gency, reaper is a sad boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pommegranate/pseuds/pommegranate
Summary: angela misses her friend.





	mercy kill

**Author's Note:**

> idk i felt sad for mercy and many feels for lil reaper. just rambly feelings pretty much, had to get it off my chest. makes little sense but w/e >_>

She had not seen him in forever.

How many years? Angela Ziegler lost count. They'd been friends, nothing more than that. He had always been focused on Blackwatch operations and Angela had always been too busy with her own extremely frantic scientific research and triage. All she wanted to do was better the world, to make people safe and healthy and he wanted the same thing.

She had always admired Gabriel Reyes' smooth voice and his laser focus. Despite that, he always took the time to be compassionate and kind to everyone around him. Angela had enjoyed his company after several missions and some coffee, stitching up an arm he could have very well done himself. He liked to talk, he liked to listen to people. His augments made him faster and stronger, just like Jack's, but the pair had always stayed humble to some degree, Gabriel the most out of them.

He always thought he knew best but Angela had come to admire that quality in him – the confidence, the willingness to defy orders. She, too, did not always agree with their superiors but her rebellions were smaller and much more quiet. 

Sometimes he took her to the range when she wanted to improve her shot. “Aim for the heart.” Gabriel would tell her, “Head is fine too. You're already a good shot, you don't need my help anymore.” He'd say.

“I like you being here – you know what you're talking about.” 

\--

O'Deorain changed him. 

He no longer came round to the infirmary after long missions. He no longer spoke so genially to his comrades. The rift between himself and Jack grew and by extension that rift between himself and Overwatch itself grew. Angela missed the rainy days when he'd bring her a coffee and listen to her for hours as she complained about incompetent interns and having too much to do and no time. Their jobs were both hectic, and crazy and so many people depended on both of them but he had never complained. Not once.

The pressure was too much for her at times and despite the endless smiles Angela doled out, inside she was tired and rarely had much reprieve. She found herself pining after the same man's life she had saved and that made it hurt even more when he left. He left, and her friend did not come around any more and she felt more alone that she had ever felt...

that was until the the explosion at the Swiss Headquarters, and everything changed. Overwatch was disbanded and two of her closest friends and countless others were left dead in the rubble of their failures. It wasn't fair – she thought that every day now. It wasn't fair that they had died, that Overwatch had been painted so brutally by the UN and a false reputation. Everyone knew it was not an accident and yet no one stepped forth to investigate... 

so she dedicated herself to helping those hurt in the war. Injured humans and omnics were healed by her hands and she tried her damnedest to help in all of the hurt. It was hard for her, it was hard for everyone. Angela so desperately missed her friends but found new ones. She tried to write to Genji, but never found him. It hurt, to be isolated. Two men dead and an organization left abandoned... 

She thought about it every day.

It was hot and the sun above was violent. Her neck was sweaty, her hair needed to be washed and she was covered in the blood of a soldier. She hated the hot sun – she missed Switzerland and everything it had to offer, but she did not complain as she washed her hands and set to stitching up her latest patient and liberally applying biotic ointment to the burn surrounding his wound. “Just stay here for a little while and rest.” Angela told him, “I'll fetch you a book and read to you if it'll help.”

When she left the tent she covered her eyes from the sun as she moved across the encampment she had been working at for the past few weeks. It was too hot...

“Hey – Ziegler, did you see on the news? Talon struck once again.. this time in Nubani. Think they'll come here because of the fighting?” A young man came up to her holding a holo-pad, the news flashing across the top of it.

“I don't think so, Fenke.” She shook her head, “We're no where important to those people.”

–

When she was in England several weeks later there was another strike by Talon. Unfortunately, she had been in the thick of it this time, triaging some UN soldiers in her Valkyrie suit. They pleaded with her to take her out of it and she did – but by the time she had flown them all out of the fire and rubble, she was tired as well. 

“They've killed Coral Lambert.” She heard over her ear piece. “This was all a trap – they lured us out here to kill her.”

Coral was one of the top omnic sympathizers within the UN. Her face was everywhere now that Mondatta had been assassinated and that had never stopped her from entering the fray to help others. “A sniper – the same from King's Row.” Was the secondary report and Angela glanced up at the rooftops. They'd be long gone by now. 

She was alone in the street and her heart pounded heavy in her chest.

“Damnit.” She cursed herself, she cursed Talon. They were always a step ahead. They were always so brutal.... her hand pressed hard against her chest and she sighed. Overwatch might have been able to stop Talon – they were working hard to do it, she asked about it sometimes... but Angela was too scared to go back. She was too scared that it would end the same way it had before.

She heard nothing before she felt a dark, gloved hand latch around her mouth, the other around her waist. Angela heard nothing at all as she struggled and fought, and then fell into darkness.

When she woke she was laying on a hard wooden bench in a dark room. Her wings had been taken off – broken, she could see the electrical wires frayed and damaged... A scowl crossed her face as she rose up off the cot to confront her captor. “What the hell is happening?” She asked.

They were in a church – the tall windows were broken and cracked, slivers of stained glass were scattered all over the old, faded wooden floorboards. Some of the pews were broken, some where exactly where they had been left by those who had abandoned the church. There was spray painted drawings and words all over the walls, but when she spotted her captor, a broad looking man in a dark cloak holding his head in his hands, she stiffened. “If you need help, this is not how you get it.”

But he was obviously dangerous – twin shotguns on either side of his legs... a long cloak, thick tactical armor covered his body. She tensed up even more and reached for the pistol at her side. “What do you want with me?”

The figure said nothing but sat up straighter – she could see the smattering of blood pouring out of his side. A shot that had managed to weasel its way between all of that thick armor. It looked like a lucky one, but unlucky for him. Several organs wounded, perhaps completely pierced... what was stranger yet was the black smoke rising out of the wound. It coiled around him like a strange fog, it was something she had seen before many years ago.

“Attend this.” his voice was augmented by the mask he wore. It sounded robotic, and deep, like an animalistic growl from some movie antagonist. “Attend this and I wont kill you.”

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she finally pulled out her pistol and aimed it at him. “Threats wont get you anything. I have no reason to help you.”

“Perhaps not – but you're the only one. Angela.”

He knew her name. She frowned and switched off the safety on her pistol. “How do you know me?”

This was the man who had been spotted with Talon. She recognized the mask from reports the UN had received, from those that Overwatch had been investigating. A dangerous assassin, a coordinated killer who worked with several others to murder and spread mayhem for little to now conceivable reason. She had no reason to help him. The finger she held on the trigger pulled back without hesitation, and Angela shot him point blank in the chest. It was a mercy kill – it would not hurt, he'd just die. Effective, simple. 

He appeared unaffected by the shot, however, and instead emitted a cool laugh. “You're not going to kill me like that.” The man rose off of the pew he had been seated on, his gloved hand now pressed hard on the wound on his side. “This will though.” He pulled his hand away and a stream of dark, chunky blood fell out of the wound and onto the floor. Smoke wafted around the two of them as he drew nearer to her. 

“I am not going to help you – you've murdered so many people.” She declared impudently. “I do not care if you threaten me.”

He laughed, “You've not changed a bit.”

As he reached up for his mask, Angela had her pistol trained on his face. If she could not kill him through his heart then another bullet to the brain would have to do. She wasn't afraid to kill him – it meant he'd kill no one else... but the second she saw the face under that mask her heart stopped in her chest. “G-Gabriel?”

Another chuckle.

His face was pale, so much paler than he had ever been before. His skin had always had a deep olive tone to it and his voice had never sounded like this before. Even without he mask he sounded far away and almost brutal. “That's not me anymore.” Was all he said.

“Gabriel, I know your face anywhere.” Angela barely remembered speaking at all, the words just tumbled out of her lips as she stared hard at him. 

He frowned and shifted to put the mask back on and she jolted forward, knocking it out of his hands. Gabriel's face was covered in dark veins, his eyes were black. His gums were black... and he looked like a corpse come to life. There was no decay, but he was almost thin – his skin certainly was. Angela's hands cupped the sides of his face as she examined him, “What has happened to you? Why are you like this? Why are you working with Talon?”

She had so many questions and it felt like he would answer none of them. His eyes were indiscernible. His chapped lips remained closed. 

“Gabriel – please.” She pleaded as she was unsure of whether or not she wanted to run from him. “This... is not you.”

He still did not say anything. Her hand shifted to the wound she had made in his chest – no blood, it had pierced his armor but there was no wound any longer... but the wound at his side was different. She put her hand on it and his blood stung her skin. Hissing, she squeezed her hand against the wound harder, trying to stop the bleeding or whatever it was doing. 

Above her, Gabriel grunted. 

“I am going to die.” He said, “If you don't get that out.”

She frowned and glanced up at him again. “You're a murderer now, Gabriel. I cannot help you.”

He frowned and stared at her, their eyes met and she knew what she was looking at was no longer her friend. Memories from year ago flooded back to her and her eyes welled up with tears. “I can't.” Her voice was shaking.

He did not move as she wrapped her arms around him. Angela embraced him tightly, so tight that she was worried it would hurt them both, but he did not make a sound. Gabriel did not move away from her, though. She wanted to sob, she wanted him to fight her, to explain himself... but he was completely silent. “What happened?!” She demanded, “Tell me!”

He was ever silent and that pissed her off even more. 

“Why?” She did not expect him to respond and he didn't. 

Just as she had been about to pull away from him, his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, closer than they had been before. “I am sorry, Angela.” His voice sounded so far away that it broke her completely and the closer he held her, the more it hurt. His body was hot – so hot it felt like a furnace... and the strength with which he gripped her almost hurt. 

“Why did you not just come to me?” She asked, her voice strained. “I would have taken care of you. You would not be this.”

He didn't respond. In fact, there was nothing he could have said either that would have made it better. Her friend was long since dead and in his place was some sort of demon that killed innocent people... the Gabriel Reyes that she had known would have never done such a thing. She thought of him and that gentle, small smile that he had. The way his hand gripped her shoulder on the gun range to tell her she had done a good job... the way he had cared so immensely about the lives of those he commanded.

That was all gone. He was dead seven years ago.

Angela pulled away from him then, her arms falling to her sides. “I cannot help you.” She said boldly, holstering her up at her side and wiping the tears away from her eyes. “But you wont kill me. I'm leaving, now.” He'd already broken her suit – she looked back at what remained of it and wasted little time in collecting it.

“I wish we could have met again, Gabriel. I wish that... I wish that you were not this monster.” She stopped at his side before leaving the church. Her voice shook as she spoke to him, her eyes on the side of his face. He had not moved since she let him go.

They were silent for a long, tempered moment. His cold, empty eyes finally landed on hers and wordlessly, he reached for her hand. The dark, smoky blood that had stained his gloved covered her hand as he held it gingerly. Some of it drifted off of her skin, but as his fingers gripped her own she winced painfully. “I wish... I wish I could help you.” She whispered. 

“You can't. Not anymore.” His voice was thick and quiet at once and he sounded more like himself than he had all night long. It made her heart seize up and her eyes fall to the faded floor. “Go quickly. Leave.”

Angela flinched and nodded her head. She regained herself and took a deep careful breath before she continued down the aisle, towards the doors of the church. He was going to die if he did not get help. Whatever had shot him was going to kill him – whatever healing he had obviously been capable of wasn't affecting the wound. If she left the building, he would die if someone else did not find him, but Angel could not bring herself to do it. All of those lives on his hands – that couldn't be on her conscience.

Her friend had died seven years ago and the husk of him that stood behind her had to die too. 

Angela wept as she left the church. It hurt so badly to mourn a man twice, but it would hurt even worse to mourn him three times. And she missed him already. He'd felt like himself for a few moments at the end of their exchange... but the second she looked down at her hands, stained black, she knew it just wasn't him.

A ghost of her past come back to haunt her. 

There had not been a chance he'd expected her to help him – Gabriel had known her better than that. 

He should have known what she would choose to do.

Maybe he had wanted to see her one last time, too, before she let him die.


End file.
